


leave this dress a mess on the floor.

by katasstropheee



Series: Charmed - Missing/Alternative Scenes [3]
Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Distance Making The Heart Grow Fonder, Episode Tag: 3x04 You Can't Touch This, F/M, First Dates, Flirting, Partial Nudity, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29630550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katasstropheee/pseuds/katasstropheee
Summary: A missing/alternative scene from 3x04 "You Can’t Touch This".Three months later, and they were finally having their evening in Paris.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood & Macy Vaughn, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Series: Charmed - Missing/Alternative Scenes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137452
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	leave this dress a mess on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amandapanda425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandapanda425/gifts).



> This rushed fic (that I will edit later) is dedicated to two amazing birthday girls: Amanda, and Sarah ([@cwcharmedd](http://twitter.com/cwcharmedd)), both of which are some of the most passionate Hacy shippers I know. It’s hard to believe we didn’t know each other a year ago. And yet, look at us now!
> 
> Sarah; you welcomed me into the fandom, and have been a guiding light ever since. You are tremendously strong, and passionate, and an amazing mother. You’ll jump over every hurdle this new year throws at you, I just know it!
> 
> And Amanda; my best online friend. My cheerleader. My shoulder. I don’t think I would be here writing as passionately or as frequently as I am now without your advice, and constant pushes. I hope I have been the same force of love and care for you, as you have been for me.
> 
> I wrote this fic as a small snippet to the end of the episode, and it’s kind of a reflection to Amanda’s missing scene, which is also amazing. You should check out her page, if you haven’t already. It gets a little deep around the middle, with a fun and hopeful ending. I hope you all like it for what it is, in all its rushed and glorious shape.

Three months later, and they were finally having their evening in Paris.

Only, they were substituting the glow of the city’s vibrant night life with candles and string lights, and providing the scent of freshly baked bread and melted butter to bring the illusion to life. The sights and monuments weren’t needed, as the backdrop of the manor’s back garden held enough history to fill an entire museum.

The history of Macy Vera-Vaughn and Harry Greenwood.

This was the garden where they had the first of many dancers. Where they consummated their true feelings with their first kiss. Where they spent many any evening lying beneath the stars and planning their future amongst them. Tonight, they were adding another item to that ever-growing list of endeavours; their first, and official date.

Macy had relinquished her mother’s silverware from its box in the dining room, polishing them to their most glorious shine. The glasses gleamed in the low, golden light, topped with champagne. Red roses, and a bronze statue of the Eiffel Tower were the final touches on the theme of the evening, and perhaps a tad overboard to Macy’s liking.

But she was willing to pile on the cheese. If only for Harry, a true romantic at heart.

And to say he was speechless at the affair would be doing his silence an injustice. When Macy had suggested tackling the tablet in the morning, he had expected a spot of tea before bed. At least, nothing as luxurious as this. But to his pleasant surprise, as always, Macy managed to turn something dark, and unknown, and fearsome, into something of light and hope. Turning his wishes and promises into something real.

This wasn’t Paris. And one day, they would be there in person – walking the Gardens of Versailles, gazing at their reflections in the Miroir des Quais, signing their names on the wall in Montartre… He had so many plans.

But for now, this would do. Harry could make do with what was there’s. And Macy, light of his life, the love he never felt he deserved, was there too.

_I’m done dwelling on what we can’t have, Harry. Because what we do have is… pretty magical._

Their dinner grew cold as they sat there and talked. Their hands sat on the surface of the table, just close enough to feel the heat radiating off the tips of their fingers. Their short experiment proved that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work.

But deep inside, they buried that ache. The one that comes from longing, and longing, and never receiving. They would bury it deep, until the time was right.

For releasing it could only end in pain. Heartache.

Macy had felt like she had lived through this nightmare before. But the difference was, Harry was always within her reach. She was just afraid to make that jump. Now, she was fearless, and confident, and ready to take that leap into the wide unknown. Ready to put a hand on his shoulder. A kiss to his cheek. A ring on his finger, when the time was right.

She was done running and hiding from what she felt. Her natural instincts burned with a passion to touch him, to hold him, to dance beneath the moonlight like they hadn’t done a hundred times before.

Screw the pain, and the inflicted marks. She would scorch the earth to save him.

And Harry would do the same.

The last three months had been long, and tiresome. At first, dealing with this new affliction had caused him great pain. He too had almost run.

When the sister’s first started experimenting with distance, it was a painful process. Furniture was broken. Ego’s were wounded. And on one particular night, that saw Macy at her angriest, rushing to reach Maggie in an attempt that Harry crying out, knowing it was a bad idea to begin with…

Macy flew back, as expected, colliding with a column and collecting dust in her hair and on her clothes. He gripped the back of her head, so he assumed a concussion, and possibly a contusion. But he had not prepared for what had occurred to her arm.

Her flesh was blistered, like she had stuck her hand directly into a pot of boiling water. He was shocked, as they all were, and his immediate response was to heal her. He had taken three steps forward, before all three girls told him to stop.

Macy’s voice was the loudest, and rang out like an echo through the command centre, bouncing off every corner and high ceiling, and back into his face. _Harry, stop_. The look of pure fear and sadness was not enough to deter Harry’s feet. He ran. For the first time in his life, as their whitelighter, as their friend, he left them to tend to their own words.

It seemed he wasn’t done questioning his fate, or his duty. Between this, and killing James, he felt the darkness starting to crawl back to where it had festered.

Three months was a long time. And somehow, through the thick wall of doubt that shrouded every good thought in his mind, Macy had broken through. She was the beacon of light that kept them all afloat, and brought them all back together. They were strong enough to survive, strong enough to endure, and strong enough to rebuild their foundation, no matter how long it took.

Granted, they weren’t expected ninety two days to roll by. But they made do.

After all, he had Macy. She had given him the space, and the encouragement to let out his demons, and all he had held on to for so long. And in return, he had made amends for his actions, his attitude, for the burden of everything the sisters have had to endure. Though, partially not his fault.

She had forgiven him with a warm smile. So bright, it sheltered the sun.

He could never believe that her smile could heal. As soft and as light as his hands, and glowing just as bright. Even as the fall of unseen energy brewed at their close proximity – hands pressed into that invisible wall, hoping their love would be enough to break through it – Harry could feel the hiss on his skin, but no longer the pain. As long as he stared deep into Macy’s eyes, and her smile, all he could feel… was warmth.

_I love you as fully as I know how, Macy… with every bone in my body._

I love you wasn’t something Macy was ready to say. Harry knew this, and respected her wishes. He knew how she felt about him. At least, Macy hoped he did. The extent of her love couldn’t be measured with words or actions, but the look on his face – solemn, sparkling, alive – seemed to say in more words than one; yes. Yes I do.

They couldn’t finish their meals. The day was over, and they had clearly reached exhaustion before the night had even begun. With the plates of scraps stacked together, they made their way to the kitchen, with Harry handling duties by the sink while Macy sat at the opposite end of the island.

She lost focus on the time, eyes admiring Harry’s hands. They worked in quick and promise succession, clearing and cleaning the plates, drying them, and placing them together, to be put away tomorrow. Harry was clearly one turn away from sinking into sleep where he stood, and Macy was the same. She was leaning heavily on her hand, startled awake when Harry had finished, shutting off the running tap and drying his hands.

Almost instinctively, they faced each other. They were each waiting for the other to go first. To say goodnight and retreat for the evening.

Macy shuddered silently, starting to feel the cold chill of autumn seeping into her bare arms. Harry noticed her slight shiver, and clenched his fists. “Let me walk you to your room.”

His invitation was awkward. He was five steps behind her, making sure to keep a well-enough distance, while simultaneously owning to his gentlemanly demeanour of dropping Macy off at her door. She was smiling the entire way, tucking her hair behind her ears like a young woman coming home late on prom night. What came next was usually the kiss, right? Hidden under the blinking porchlight, silent as to not alert the parents who had fallen asleep on the couch?

“Well, this is me,” Macy said cheerily. Her door was open, basked in the glow of the lamp she must’ve left on.

“I guess… I will see you tomorrow.” He nodded, bowing forward, as if he was courting a maid. He blushed at Macy’s amused laughter, turning to leave. The cold, dense air of the attic awaiting him, away from the warmth, the heat, the growing ache in his-

“Harry, wait.”

He did, turning at the sound of his name. Then, waiting.

Macy kicked her foot against the carpet, eyes lowered and sheltered beneath her lolled hair. “Stay. Here, tonight.”

Harry was surprised. By her invitation, of course. But more so by the nervousness in her voice. She had been nerves of steel at dinner. So what had changed?

“Macy, I don’t think that’s a good-“

“It’s okay.” She finally brought her face up and back into the light. Her eyes sparked anew with something else. Something sweltering deep within her dark eyes. “I may have made something for you in here too.”

She stepped backwards through the wooden archway. He waited for her beckon, knees buckled and threatening to break. She finally called his name, allowing him access to her room.

When he approached the door, slowly, he eyed her from across the way, where she stood with her arms outstretched, indicating to a tall mattress, made up in fresh sheets, blankets and fluffed-up pillows. A makeshift bed, situated between her bed, and her wardrobe. “But, how?” he asked in amazement.

“I found it, sitting out in the shed and collecting dust. I figured we could put it to good use.

“And I know how uncomfortable that couch is,” she added, giving him a look of recognition. “I have spent many nights up there myself.”

“Well, it’s a good place to think.”

“Yeah, just make sure you don’t get lost in those thoughts.”

He chuckled, softly. “I… I appreciate this. So much.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t come for free.” He gazed up, meeting her eyes, feeling the room dim from curious to serious. “It look Me, Mel and Maggie three months to perfect our routine. But I reckon we could beat that record.”

Harry smirked, commending Macy’s resolve. “So do I.”

His first night in Macy’s room. Just an arm’s reach from her bed. A bed he was no stranger to, and neither was his intentions.

He had left the room only to grab his things; clothes, bathroom supplies, and a few books he kept close to the chest for emergencies or interest. When he came back, issued to that side of the room by an invisible line Macy had drawn into the floor, he was met with her back.

She faced the window, standing tall at the edge of her mattress. She flicked her eyes over her shoulder, sending her hair cascading freely with the motion. “I was waiting for you to get back,” she offered at his inquisitive stare.

“Well, it’s not like I can help you with your dress,” he added, sadly.

“True,” she granted. Then, with pinched fingers seated at the base of her back, she pushed a tiny bit of magic, laced with blue coils, down the centre of her spine, drawing the zipper of her dress with it. Beneath, tan skin broke through, glistening with perspiration. “But you can still watch.”

Harry could only stand there, hand holding his chin in case his jaw dislodged and fell to the floor. Once again, he was a stuttering mess under the control of a strong and vibrant woman, and distance did not stand a chance of dwelling the eager swell of Harry’s manhood.

The jade fabric slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, leaving Macy chest-bare and laced at her hips. She turned, baring all to the man still firmly dressed in his best shirt and trousers.

“Your turn.”

Again, harry answered the call, following her instructions with less grace. His shirt landed somewhere by the dresser, and his pants were kicked off along with his shoes and socks, nearly toppling him in the process. She laughed, widely and unabashedly, her breasts bouncing with the deep vibrations in her chest.

Now, he was down to his own, black briefs, sporting a rather handsome, embroidered turtle over his left thigh. “Hm, those look cute on you.”

“Not as much as they would on the floor.”

Macy scoffed, hiding her want to his broadcasted desires. “I know, love,” she chided, affectionally. She leant forward to untuck the comforter from beneath her fort of pillows, leaving enough room to crawl in and sanction herself from the enveloping cold. “Maybe, on another night, we could lose the underwear.”

“Macy! Baby, you are killing me here!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she chimed, throwing an arm out in atonement. He reached forward too, hands clasped in a way that made it look like they could touch. If distance wasn’t so important. “But I promise you, we will make the most out of this. Until we are back together again.”

Harry sighed, giving in to his stagnation and crawling into his own, makeshift cot. To his surprise, the mattress was firmer than he had expected, and much more comfortable than the small and narrow throne in the attic. “Thank you, Macy,” he repeated, head nestled into his pillow.

She turned to face him, mirroring his demeanour. They were almost at the perfect height to match each other, and it almost felt like they were sharing the same bed. The same space. The same air.

“Well, goodnight Harry.”

She brought a hand out from beneath the covers, just to flick a finger that flicked the switch on the lamp. The room fell into darkness, silhouette Macy’s face and hair with dimming moonlight.

He let his eyes memorise the lines and curves, placing behind his shut eyes and welcoming it into his subconscious. Perhaps, he could hold her in his dreams.

_We will work this out. Together._

“Goodnight, Macy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to make a request for a scene you think deserves some love or attention over on my [twitter](http://twitter.com/katasstropheee), and I’ll see what I can do.


End file.
